How can one start again after a loss? My husband and I waited two and a half years to start trying again for a child. We thought we had good news.
We knew that trying to conceive was going to take time and we knew there was disappointment in our future, but no one was expecting the roller coaster ride that we’ve been on.
It started Monday (July 25), when I went to my doctor to confirm my pregnancy. What was a happy event ended up being a negative experience because my doctor was the doctor from hell.
For example, I told him that I was still breast-feeding my daughter, and he responded:
” What the hell for? It didn’t work anyway. You still got pregnant anyway.”
He laughed as if the remark was funny. That was where we left things, I decided to move on to a new doctor.
Two days later (Wednesday) I started cramping. That afternoon I was spotting.
Google was my unofficial doctor. In most cases, it would be foolish to look up your condition online instead of going to a doctor, but I was in-between doctors and I knew this was just the beginning of my ordeal.
Since the spotting continued, I saw another doctor on Saturday. He checks everything and he says it looks normal. To my surprise I saw a heartbeat and it was strong.
I left that office with renewed hope and in denial. Maybe, just maybe this was viable, after all plenty of women spot during pregnancy.
All hope was removed in the afternoon. When my daughter woke up from her nap, my pain was much worse and the spotting turned to bleeding.
How could something that looked good be failing? I didn’t have much to say to my family because I didn’t know what I could say. According to my unofficial doctor, all the symptoms I was having was symptoms of a miscarriage.
Lower back pain, cramps, bleeding, fever.
I didn’t know when it was going to happen, but I knew it was just a matter of time.
I cried so much during the weekend; I mourned the life that I will never get to know. The sister or brother that my daughter will never meet. The child that we conceived in love, was now being rejected.
Monday morning (August 1st) I woke up with the sharpest pain that I have felt all weekend.
Trying to sit down hurt. Standing hurt. Moving hurt. I couldn’t take it anymore. The wait was killing me. If it was going to happen, it should have just happened. I prayed for it to be over soon.
I called my mother to come by, I need to go to the doctor again, to which she agreed.
Two hours after making the phone call, I received an answer to my prayers: I miscarried. My daughter was watching Sesame Street in the living room and I was crying silently in the bathroom.
The physical pain stopped. No more cramps, no more uncertainty and no more denial.
That afternoon I went to another doctor for confirmation. She told me what I already knew, I had a complete miscarriage.
I said thank you to her and proceeded to get dressed. I have no more tears left, and if I did, I couldn’t cry anymore.
This loss was not just my loss. My husband lost a possible son or daughter. My mother lost a potential grandchild. My sister and brother lost a niece or nephew. This was a family loss, and we all mourned.
I’m now trying to go back to normal, trying to move on, but it’s hard.
When my hormones go back to normal, we’ll try again. Not to try to forget or to replace one pregnancy with another, but to do what we both agreed on: expand our family.
In time I know I will recover from the loss. The pregnancy was only 6 weeks along, but it was 6 weeks with me living with the possibility and the joy.